I'm Not One of Them
by Niendil
Summary: What if Hiccup did leave when Astrid found out he had trained a dragon? What if it wasn't entirely by choice? Berk needs their hiccup more than they know...
1. Part One - Leaving

**Summary:  
**What if Hiccup did leave when Astrid found out he had trained a dragon? What if it wasn't entirely by choice?

**Author's Note:  
**Lately, I have remembered how much I loved this movie and after hearing this idea tossed around on a few sites, I decided to try my hand at the tale. I inadvertently have this set in line with the second movie but it will not mention any of the events of that movie since this tale will greatly alter the events of the first movie.

I hope to capture the spirit of the movie and maintain characters personalities as much as possible since those are what I love. As with all writers, I greatly appreciate feedback, so reviews are welcomed.

**Disclaimer:  
**"How To Train Your Dragon" is the property of Dreamworks Animation Studios and author Cressida Cowell. All characters and locations that may appear in the story are not my own unless listed. This is a work of fiction and is not intended to replace or change the published works.

_00000000000000000000_

**Part One**

"I scared him?!" Astrid's wide eyes turned dark as she looked between the night fury and Hiccup, the dragon rather calm with Hiccup's arms wrapped all over him. She asked, though she feared the answer, "Who..is him?"

"Astrid, Toothless. Toothless...Astrid."

The girl shook her head in disbelief and peddled backwards until she was running. This...this was just impossible...she had to tell someone...Stoick would talk some sense into his son.

"Astrid! No...Astrid, come on! Just let me explain..."Hiccup took off after her, trying desperately to catch up. But Astrid was faster and stronger than he was, and even with his knowledge of the cove and surrounding forest, she far outpaced him.

Panting, the boy came to a stop. "This can't end well..."

A curious croon caught his attention and Hiccup turned to see Toothless picking his way through the brush.

"It's okay bud..." he turned his eyes back to Berk." I think."

_0000000000_

Stoick's eyes were dark slits as he listened to the young Viking. So this...this was what his son had been reduced to? Why did Odin seek to torment him even more? What blasphemy had he lain upon the Gods to be cursed such? He growled into his thick beard. He would fix this. He could always fix it.

Brushing beyond Astrid, the chief turned to his long time friend. "Gobber...gather up the strongest Vikings and the toughest steel...today we kill the Night Fury..."

_0000000000_

Night was a foggy darkness in the cove and the cool air made Hiccup shudder. Even with Toothless' warm scales against his back a chill had settles into his body. He was beginning to think it had little to do with the weather.

Determined that Astrid would change her mind and come back, Hiccup had chosen to wait for her. He would show her how gentle Toothless could be and they would go back to Berk and show everyone that they didn't have to keep fighting the dragons. He would fix the islands biggest problem and finally...finally his father would see him as something more than...all this.

But, hours had passed, and either Astrid got lost on her back to the cove...or...he shook his head trying not to think about the 'or'.

Suddenly, Toothless twitched one ear then another, his sharp hearing picking up some sound in the distance. Slowly the dragon raised his head and sniffed the air. His lips parted and he growled.

"What is it, bud?"

Toothless rose up and stared into the forest. His scales rustled.

"No..."

Illuminated by the mist, pinpricks of torchlight danced.

"No..."

Toothless roared. The lights paused for a moment then came faster and Hiccup knew that 'or' had happened.

Hiccup peddled back from the lights as they formed into blurry shapes and the sound of angry Viking surrounded him. There was no way he could stop them all. Toothless nudged the boy's back and shook his shoulders where the saddle sat. 'Come on' he said. 'Let's fly away.'

Hiccup begrudgingly complied, swinging himself into the saddle. Toothless snapped up his belongings before launching into the air.

The ground rushed away from them just as the Vikings poured into the cove. Toothless' massive wings pushed at the mist and the eyes of father and son met.

Stoick glared up, disbelief and anger swirling on his face. Hiccup watched him with fear and defiance. For a few minutes neither moved...then...

"Fire the catapults."

"But…your son," a voice responded.

Stoick tore his eyes from the sky. "I have no son."


	2. Part Two - Surviving

**Part Two**

"I have no son."

Hiccup watched, heartbroken as his father turned away from him and the massive weapon was rolled into view. Toothless flicked his tail and caught an updraft, twisting from the momentary hover in which he had stopped.

A large boulder flew just under him and the dragon rumbled in surprise. He shook his shoulders again for his human counterpart was rather dazed; the artificial tail still hung open preventing better aerial maneuvers.

Hiccup shook out of his reprieve and clicked the tail into the next position as another boulder came toward them. They flipped in the air before shooting for higher ground.

A third and fourth projectile – the latter flaming – were launched from the ground and Toothless retaliated with a plasma blast. The trees smoldered, the bark too damp to be easily set alight.

A few Vikings took to the trees aiming thick arrows to their prey's wings. Most fell short and bounced off of the dragon's tough hide, but one lodged itself in an edge point of Toothless' left wing, another in Hiccup's right calf. The two let out howls of pain as the barbed bolts sunk into tender flesh.

Hiccup turned again to his father, praying to Thor that this was all some terrible dream, but Stoick was loading another flaming boulder, giving little heed to the sky. "Dad…"

Toothless veered from another arrow and tore away from the fight. There was nothing there for which to risk his life. The powerful beats of his wings easily carried him beyond the reach of the Vikings in the cove and a few small parties scattered throughout the forest could do little but glower as he flew ahead, the only evidence of his passing, the whooshing of his flight.

"Are we going to let them get away?" Gobber asked, carefully broaching the subject. He was no entirely for hunting down Hiccup but Stoick was his chief and friend. The man had to have a plan.

The chief turned to his flock, all awaiting an answer. He scowled and waved a meaty hand behind him. "A trained dragon and a hiccup…they'll die in a week."

_000000000000_

Toothless soared through the sky for hours on end until the ocean passed below them and the islands were no longer shapes Hiccup recognized. Every now and then, the dragon would warble as the bolt in his injured wing was tugged by a stubborn wind, but otherwise, the two travelled in silence. Toothless did not understand fully what the skinny not-a-viking thought. He was a breed of solitary dragon, used to being alone and used to enjoying it. He tolerated the other dragons if necessary, but always looked out for his own hide.

Still…his skinny not-a-viking was different. Not just from the ones like him but from a dragon as well. Even though Hiccup seemed to be rather like Toothless in that he was one of a kind in a herd of those who were the same, the not-a-viking liked to be around the Vikings. Even now, after they through fire into the sky and pierced his precious wings…his not-a-viking felt sad, broken…alone. These he felt rolling from the not-a-viking on his back as though they were waves of the ocean and though the dragon could comprehend the difference between happy and sad…the why remained elusive. But the why, Toothless decided as he began to wheel down to a large island that did not smell of anything but plants, was not important. His not-a-viking…was sad.

As Toothless touched down, Hiccup slid absentmindedly from the saddle, collapsing to the ground. He hissed as the weight on his injured leg irritated the arrow still jabbed in his calf. Toothless crooned and turned to his rider. Easily slipping around the boy, he carefully wrapped his teeth around the arrow's shaft and pulled. Hiccup let out a terrifying scream and the barbed bolt was yanked free and blood gushed from the opened wound. Toothless closed his ears to the sounds of pain and calmly liked his rider's wounds. Slowly, the bleeding stopped and a thick coat of saliva covered Hiccup's leg.

The boy breathed heavily, sweat beading his reddened face. "Thanks…" The word was barely a whisper, but the dragon coughed his gratitude before turning to his own injury. It was not something he never dealt with, and though he greatly disliked the pointy sticks, Toothless was used to the pain they provided and only crooned slightly as he jerked his own bolt from his wing. In silence, he coated his wound in the sticky saliva.

For a few moments, silence was all that passed between them. Hiccup sat where he fell, staring between the dragon and the world around them. The island was not big enough for any tribe to really make a living off of…but he supposed he had no tribe. This space was enough for just him and his dragon. His eyes locked on Toothless again, and the boy sighed. Just him….and his dragon. No one else would take them in. No one else would care for a boy who claimed that dragons were not monsters. No. It had to be…just him and his dragon.

Again, Hiccup turned his eyes to the island but he did not really even see the land before him, instead looking at the last image of Berk he would allow his mind to conjure. The great ships, twisting dock steps, wooden shacks they dared call houses and..home. Hiccup pushed them all away with one last hefty sigh

The boy that turned to face Toothless was not that Hiccup, not that Viking...not..one of them. What he was, this Hiccup was not sure but he smiled his signature crooked smile and shrugged. "So...what's for breakfast?"


	3. Part Three - Revealing

**Part Three**

5 YEARS LATER

The sun hung far in the east; its rays not yet warm on the open ocean. The water was calm, rocking only slightly in the gentle breeze. It was a rare day of peaceful weather and only a few clouds threatened to spill their chilly loads. Fishlegs was quite happy for the change as he steered his little boat across the open waters.

His body glistened, even in the cool morning, with sweat from his exertion and despite having a blanket in the boat, the boy did not use it to cover himself. Once frail, thin, legs were now thick trunks to his frame. Broad shoulders, that had only been bulky for his heavy weight, now sported rolling muscles built from hard labor. His pale skin was tanned and his blonde hair, nearly platinum, hanging to his lower back. The locks were restrained by a braid that bounced with the rhythm of his rowing.

For a moment, Fishlegs paused and let the current carry him forward, as he pulled a scroll from the pack at his feet. It was a quickly drawn map that sported multiple random islands. He drew his finger along the squiggled lines that represented water and tapped an unmapped section near the upper section of the paper. "Guess I'll see what's over there…."

Re-rolling the map, Fishlegs took up the oars and again pushed himself toward the unknown.

_0000000000_

_Thud! Thump! Crash!_

Hiccup turned against the noise, hoping that maybe this morning, he could ignore his rambunctious companion. But, as with every morning, the dragon heard the small rustle of blankets and the light shift in the human's breathing, and leapt onto the boy's back.

Hiccup shot up with a grunt as Toothless' full weight came crashing down upon him.

"Okay, okay, I'm up!"

Toothless crooned, annoyed, and pushed against his rider until Hiccup had no choice but to crawl from the comfort of his bed or get pushed out of it. "Bossy…" He muttered with a yawn as he stood. Another yawn escaped him, and with half-closed eyes, he clambered onto his dragon's back. Toothless lead him outside and with a leap from his powerful legs, into the air.

_0000000000_

By the time Fishlegs arrived to the island, the sun was warm and he was panting in the heat. "Whew!" He brushed a heavy forearm over his brow and looked around. The foliage on the island was thick and he could see more ground than sea. A small smile broke out on his face. "Looks promising."

He gathered his pack and great sword, the weapon fitting comfortably against his back, before slowly picking his way through the forest. Fishlegs, took great pains in noting as much as he could about the island, studying the trees, the grass, and the soil. He sat in the same spot for several minutes, scribbling about the insects that buzzed by and the birds that hunted them. The trees on the island were thick, clumped fairly tightly together, and showed no signs of rot. Many of them reached to the sky as though attempting to blot it from sight. Fishlegs considered this a positive. Anything that came from above would be hard pressed to catch prey without having to crash through the heavy branches.

A sudden 'whooshing of large wings passed over head, giving credence to Fishlegs' worries, and he felt a shiver run down his spine. In a swift movement, he switched his notebook for the great sword, the blade glistening in the sunlight. Narrowed eyes darted to and fro as he tried to pinpoint where the beast would come from.

The sound came again, from his far right, and Fishlegs jerked in that direction. Then, from behind him then, the right again. The beast was fast. His fingers tightened that all too familiar hilt of his sword, ready for anything.

A piercing roar cut the air and Fishlegs responded with a scream of his own. Suddenly, he was face to belly with a thick black hide. His breath caught in his throat and he could only mouth the words,' Night…fury'. Fear that he had not felt in years froze his legs and the boy fell back. The sword clattered to the ground and Fishlegs turned his eyes away. He did not want to see when death came…

The dragon roared above him, the heat from its plasma building, then…nothing.

"Fishlegs?"

The Viking squinted open an eye and nearly lost his breath again. The tousled chestnut hair, the skinny frame…"Hiccup?"

Fishlegs opened his other eye. "Hiccup…is that really you?"

Five years had only barely changed the chief's son. Hiccup was still tall and lanky, though he had a bit more definition to his calves and forearms. He was a bit scruffier, the beginnings of the traditional Viking beard edging his more defined face. But the same outline was the same. It _was_ Hiccup!

Fishlegs bounded back to his feet, ready to tackle his old friend.

The roar of the dragon next to Hiccup called him off.

Hiccup easily patted the dragon's head. "Easy, Toothless." Despite his calming words, Hiccup did not take his eyes from Fishlegs, he too noticing the difference five years could make.

"What are you doing here?"

The blonde did not answer. His attention instead focused on the dragon again. The Night Fury was terrifying and threatening and deadly and everything else he had ever heard or read about, but none of that as directed to the human at his side. In fact, by the way his forelegs were splayed and his tail wrapped just a bit to his left, Fishlegs could see that the dragon was clearly protecting Hiccup. "It was true…"

"What was true?" Hiccup's voice was heavy, suspicious, and it drew Fishlegs' attention back to him.

"You…you trained a dragon!"

Hiccup sighed.

"Not just any dragon…but a Night Fury! Hiccup that's…." his words were cut off as a plasma blast shot by his head and exploded on his boat. "Hiccup?"

The dragon rider turned away, glancing only momentarily over his shoulder. "You won't be going back, Fishlegs. Not now that you've found me."


	4. Part Four - Dying

**Part Four**

"You won't be going back, Fishlegs. Not now that you've found me."

Hiccup did not look back as Toothless moved in closer to Fishlegs, head low, fangs bared, and a deep growl echoing in his throat.

The stout boy slid backwards on the damp grasses, his fingers hesitating to reach for his sword. Hiccup would call off the dragon, right? This was just a scare, right? He risked a glance behind the hulking form of the dragon to see Hiccup's retreating figure disappear behind the foliage. "Ha ha Hiccup…." This was all a big scare…right?

Toothless roared and Fishlegs screamed in return, drawing the great sword.

The dragon snarled and roared again, his massive wings spreading to make himself seem larger. He lunged for the Viking and Fishlegs rolled out of the way, slicing through the air as soon as he regained his feet. "Night Fury… speed unknown…strength unknown," Fishlegs recited, slowly bouncing in place. "Do not engage…" Fishlegs almost rolled his eyes. "Too late for that…" He darted toward the dragon, faster than his bulk seemed to allow, and swung his blade.

Toothless leaped over the blade and its wielder, gliding a moment before coming to land again. He roared for a third time, the shrieking call primal, before firing a plasma blast just beside Fishlegs. It was enough to make the Viking stumble away but the dragon did not seem to be aiming for him. At least not yet…Fishlegs frowned. Was the dragon playing with him? It didn't matter. Again, Fishlegs charged forward, the sword slashing through the air. Toothless reared up to avoid the heavy blade, wings flapping, both to steady himself, and to push away the one that attacked him. Another plasma blast left his maw and Fishlegs had to jump to avoid it. Toothless roared and charged as his feet hit the ground. Fishlegs pivoted and darted to the left but the Night Fury's tail was waiting and wrapped around his legs. The powerful limb hoisted the boy into the air and flung him into the trees. The sword clattered to the ground midway between his starting and landing point. The sudden sound of stones and branches hitting the ground met the dragon's ears and he cautiously picked his way into the brush. Dust still rose from where his prey fell and he could hear the sound of the Viking struggle. He growled again, beating his wings once to clear the air.

Trapped, under a stone-weighted net, was Fishlegs. He was cut up a bit from his fall and seemed dizzy from the landing, but otherwise, was unharmed.

"Good work, bud."

Toothless turned his attention to his rider as Hiccup reemerged, a long rope in his hands.

Fishlegs looked up, eyes still spinning as his brain tried to deal with being smacked on the ground, into a blurry, skinny face. A limp smile wrapped onto his own lips and, despite the coarse net weighing him down and the dragon that still huffed smoke next to him, he felt relieved. "Hiccup…" Fishlegs reached up. "I knew you wouldn't kill me. You're better than that…" his words continued as, face impassive, Hiccup knelt down and placed a soaked rag over the Viking's nose and mouth. After a few seconds, Fishlegs went silent and still.

_0000000000_

The first thing that Fishlegs realized, as consciousness returned to him, was the dim red light that filtered through his closed eyes. Slowly, muffled sounds and smells filled out his world and he heard a fire crackling, steel running against wood, and a voice talking softly.

Fishlegs groaned as his body woke, and the bruises from his fall screamed for attention. "That was not the best landing…" he muttered, trying to figure out why he couldn't lift his hand to massage his shoulders. He blinked open his eyes and was even more surprised to realize that he could not see any better. A moment of panic took him and he struggled against what he now realized were ropes, holding him in place.

The sound of footsteps made him pause, his other senses flinging out to understand. He heard breathing and felt fingers inching closer to his face. Out of instinct, Fishlegs pulled away, turning his face as far he could, tensing each muscle in preparation for….for…a blindfold to be removed? Light suddenly flooded into his eyes and Fishlegs had to squeeze them shut for a moment to adjust. When he opened his eyes again, Hiccup was sitting in front of him. Now that he was able to get a closer look, Fishlegs saw that Hiccup was not exactly the same. His eyes, that had once been bright and full of ideas, were heavy and grim. Creases were already burrowing into his face, despite his young age and his shoulders were hunched with an invisible burden.

"Why are you here?"

"Uhm…"

"Are you hunting me?"

"What? No!" Fishlegs sighed. "We…we all thought you were long gone."

Hiccup's eyes narrowed. "Then why are you here?"

For a moment, it seemed that Fishlegs was not going to answer, his eyes darting around to avoid meeting those of his questioner.

"Fishlegs!"

"I'm mapping the islands!"

"Why?"

"To find a new one…"

"What…that doesn't make any sense? Berk is fine."

"That's right…you…you left before it happened…" Fishlegs hesitated again. "You don't know."

"Fishlegs…what are you talking about?"

The stout boy winced against Hiccup's harsh tone and sighed. "Hiccup…it's…it's pretty bad…"

"Tell me."

_~~~Flashback~~~_

All of Berk was once again gathered in the main hall, their angry voices echoing off the curved walls. At their head, on a raised platform, stood Stoick, his great arms waving as he tried to get everyone's attention.

"Quiet! QUIET!" His voice boomed over the others and a slow silence spilled over the room.

"Now look…I know this is getting worse – "

"Worse?!" A voice roared over the chief's. "The damn things are practically moving in!"

The crowd bellowed in agreement and Stoick once again waved his arms for silence. "I know! And that's why I am taking the fight to them!"

The villagers groaned and their complaints filled the room: "Not again!" "We'll all get killed this time for sure!" "You're crazy!"

Stoick drew himself to his full height and boomed over them, "Yes…I will go to their nest, again, and I do not demand you come with me!" The silence slowly filtered back into the room. This was not the first time Stoick talked about hunting the dragon's to their nest, but there was a desperate determination in his tone that was new. "I will not tell you to throw yer lives away on this asinine mission of a stubborn man but I can promise you that this time I will end this!" He slammed a heavy fist on the wall to emphasize his words. "Even if I have to go alone…this time I will destroy them and I will not stop until I have made them fear the very smell of our island!"

No one said anything as the last words tumbled out of their chief's mouth. There was too much at stake..too much to risk…but there was also too much to lose by doing nothing.

In the past months, the dragon hunts had multiplied. First, they came nearly every night in packs of four or five, but within a few weeks, they dozens of dragons came throughout the day and night. The villagers spent more time fighting the beasts for their food rather than actually being able to hunt for it. The sheep were nearly gone, only Mildew's pet and a few young ewes' remaining, and most of the fish had migrated to safer waters. Food had become scarce and the harshness of winter was settling in. People were scared and angry.

Stoick…had to fix things or lose everyone.

Just as the silence began to stretch to a point where Stoick was sure he had received his answer, a slow drawl echoed in the room. "What makes you think this time will be any better than the last?" It was Spitelout that added this last, snide, remark, pushing himself to the front of the crowd.

Stoick glowered at his brother. "Because this time, they will lead me to the front door."

_000_

The Berk armada steered silently through the icy waters, the familiar mist that rolled from Helheim's Gate, coating the air.

Stoick paused his lead ship for a moment, letting it list just before the mist. His eyes wafted over the ones staring back at him, both in his own ship and out beyond, where just over two dozen more ships waited. Every able bodied villager was in on the mission, only the young and infirm lingering behind at Berk to await the outcome. He was responsible for their lives; their futures. This battle would determine all of that and he was not going to lose. He could not lose.

The burden of his determination settled on his back, Stoick turned back to the mist. A figure passed over head, the shadow of wings coating the boat. From below he could just make out the thick chains, swooping in the breeze, which had once held the Timberjack in captivity on Berk. Stoick braced himself. "Take us in."

The fog swallowed the ships and for a few minutes it seemed as though they would not survive the mist's hunger. But slowly, the fog eased away as large stone towers and the steady beats of dragon wings broke it up. Stoick, glanced back to ensure his armada was still together, before turning again to the sky. Another dragon passed overhead, so close to the boat, the gale from its wings nearly toppled them. "Keep close to it!" Stoick whispered harshly.

The Timberjack was fast, but large enough to keep in their sights, though following the beast's aerial maneuvers proved to be more difficult. The stone pillars were no problem for the dragon that could simply go above them, but the boats had to move slowly in order to avoid crashing into the stones or each other. At times, the dense fog and even denser sea stacks, sent the Vikings off course and it was only the phantom jingling of their released dragon that kept them from being led astray. Still, the fleet was spread painfully thin, but there was no way Stoick was going to go any slower and risk losing this chance.

As the Timberjack joined up with a flock of other dragons, the Viking's saw before them, a massive volcano, reaching toward the stars. The dragons raced in through an opening high above but cracks and tunnels near the base of the mountain were all Stoick and his Hooligans needed.

The Vikings arranged themselves on and around the island. Heavier catapults were lined on the shores of the beach, the giant rocks at the base of the mountain loaded into the cradles. The ships were staggered just beyond the shores, three rows deep so that the last of row of ships were just silhouettes in the mist. If this went south…they would have the better chance of escape. Each ship sported two or three harpoons settled in massive crossbows, aimed for the sky.

Stoick surveyed the set up with a critical eye, nodding with approval. It was time. The chief turned to face the mountain and Gobber and Spitelout turned with him. Behind the three, twenty Vikings each, readied themselves for what horror lay beyond.

Stoick glanced to those at his side. "When we crack this mountain open, all hell is going to break loose…" The other two nodded grimly, tightening their hold on their weapons. "For Berk."

"For Berk."

With a wave of his arm, Stoick commanded the catapults on land to fire. A line of snapping rope served as a prelude to the destruction of the boulders that crashed upon the mountain. The walls of the volcano shattered away under the attack and dust filled the air. Stoick prepared for anything…but the world remained eerily silent. Taking a few steps further, he peered into the darkness that extended into the mountain. "Give me a torch."

Another catapult was readied, tightly wound bramble over stone blazing, and fired into the void. The falling light illuminated more dragons than he could dare count.

Like a true Viking, Stoick refused to be taken over by fear or shock and instead, brazenly rushed into the cavern, a fearless bellow tearing from his throat.

The nest of dragons responded by rushing from the chasm like bats. The stream of colorful bodies and large wings seemed endless but Stoick and the Vikings slashed, hacked, and fired into the mass, determined to go down fighting. The monsters, however, paid their attackers no heed, simply launching into the air and tearing away from the island.

The villagers watched, wary, then, "We did it…?" Gobber said, a bit unsure. Spitelout nodded at his side. "We did it!" A cheer went up from the villagers, all but Stoick happy to be free of their terrors.

The chief did not turn away from the mountain, his ears focused on some small sound rumbling in the bowels of the mountain. His brows bristled. "This isn't over." Stoick turned back to the villagers, raising his voice over the villagers' rambunctious cheer. "This isn't over! Form your ranks! Hold together!" The villagers scrambled back to their positions, quick hands readying the weapons.

The volcano growled again and the island quaked under the strain. The ground cracked and the mountain rained down on them like an avalanche, sending the Vikings on the shore diving to get out of the way. A great dragon head burst from the opening in the mountain, its wide, thick jaw easily dislodging the stone.

Gobber paled as he tilted his head to see the beast that towered over them. "Beard of Thor…what is that?"

The dust did not have time to settle, as the rest of the dragon emerged from the debris. Legs, twice the size of most trees, slammed down on the shore, steadying a body that seemed large enough to have supported the entire mountain.

"Odin, help us…" Stoick whispered before shaking off his terror. "Catapults!"

The Hooligans obeyed, scrambling to their feet and launching direct hits against their foe. But the stones did nothing to the dragon's tough hide and the beast only roared, annoyed by the action. She turned her eyes to the weapons and with one claw tore into half a dozen. The wood splinted and screamed, while those too close cried out in fear and pain. Stoick whipped around to see his people flop into the water, bloodied, broken bodies floating like dolls. "What have I unleashed?" His fear would not be coaxed away this time. A leader knew when he had gotten in over his head and Stoick was not going to lose more lives because of his pride.

"Get out of here! Go!" He waved his hands over his head, directing the ships more so than those that remained on land.

The dragon watched the tiny leader and roared. No one escaped! Her bellow shook the land again, before a blast of fire wrapped around a line of ships.

Stoick watched in horror as the first row and much of the second were easily engulfed in flame. "Get in the water!" The chances of survival were dwindling.

The villagers screamed, panic filling their every movement. Those in ships that had not yet been destroyed turned and tried to escape. The others, grabbed any spare wood and launched themselves into the icy water, paddling for what they prayed was safety. The dragon refused to be denied her meal and crashed into the water after them.

"NO!" Stoick raced after the beast ramming his hammer against her rear legs. He knew he had no hope of defeating the monstrous beast but he could give his people some time to escape. "HEY! HEY!" Decades of controlling rambunctious hooligans were put to use as Stoick bellowed to get the dragon's attention.

Further to his right, Gobber turned to watch his friend. The smith growled. "That idiot!" With a maddening roar, Gobber rejoined the fray. "Stupid beast! Over here!"

One of the queen's many eyes rounded to face the new loud thing and for a moment, she paused her attack, debating which to take on first.

Stoick's head snapped to Gobber just as fast, angry, but fear filled, eyes locked on him. "What are you doing?! Get out of here! I can buy you the time!"

The dragon wheeled back to Stoick and the chief snatched off his helmet, banging the hammer against the reverberating metal.

"Then I can double it!" Gobber jumped and flailed like fish out of water, spewing creative insults that he was glad that dragon did not fully understand.

"Damnit Gobber!" Stoick threw his hammer at the dragon and she roared as it struck her nose. He would die first. The queen reared up on her rear legs and came crashing back to the ground. The shore gave under the force and anything still standing came to its knees. Gobber was blown back, the flutter of the creature's wings knocking him off his feet, while Stoick slipped and rolled on the cascading stones. A boulder, shaken free in the demolition, nearly avoided his head but seemed more than happy to settle over his legs. Stoick let out a pained howl and banged against the entrapment.

Above him, the queen towered in all her destructive glory and roared a victorious call. This one that led them….she would kill it and they would fall and she would get retribution for all they took from her.

She lowered her massive snout and boiled the fire in her belly with a hiss. The noxious fumes that would spark the flames spilled out around Stoick and he coughed as it seeped into his lungs. This close he could hear the zip of the spark, just before angry red flooded over him. The ground glowed white hot with the heat of the blaze, stones melting into lava the sizzled as it leaked into the icy water.

The scream that tore itself from Gobber's very core was the lead in a chorus of disbelieving wails. Without a second thought the smith launched everything he could find at the beast, a red haze clouding his logic. It killed him! It killed him! IT KILLED HIM! Stone, blades, shields, his helmet hand and plethora of large stones bounced off of the dragon, doing nothing but heightening her ire.

"GO TO HELL YOU VILE BEAST!"

The queen turned, ready to roast this one too, when a harpoon launched into the dragon's side and the beast turned again to see the remains of a burning ship face her. The queen of dragons roared again.

"Gobber! Get outta there!"

The metal smith turned to the ship as well, a moment of clarity coming of him as he spotted the mighty Spitelout at the helm of the burning ship. Another flaming harpoon was nestled between the decorations on the ship and the man was lining the shot up.

Gobber took the scene in, in a brief moment and frowned. There was no way that shot was going to work. The dragon would tear it out of the air before it landed. He glanced to the smoldering rocks at the dragon's feet and felt his chest constrict. "For Stoick…."

Gathering up his courage, Gobber raced to the dragon's front, and wildly waving his arms, shouted. "Over here you giant lizard!"

The dragon queen lolled her head to the side so that her eyes could catch the insulting insect. It danced teasingly in her vision and she swatted at it. It was small and fast and rolled away from her claws. She growled and swatted again, the insect still diving away.

"Come on! Show me what you got!" Gobber raced around the dragon's front, twisting and jumping away from the angry beasts attacks. "Anytime now, Spitelout…" he muttered, glancing over his shoulder. The dragon was utterly focused on Gobber, but otherwise lined up well for the Viking's attack. Its sensitive, wide nostrils were open and a perfect target. If only…

The flaming harpoon flew over Gobber's head, lodging itself in the queen's head. She reared back, roaring angrily, spewing fire. They had hurt her!

Spitelout nodded and leaped from the boat as the flames made it more dangerous. He splashed into the water as the dragon crashed back onto land. Her fire would not be stopped and Gobber raced toward the water. A wide tongue of flame snaked around him before he made it and the Viking felt his very flesh boil and melt away from his bones. All sense left him and survival remained his only focus. He ran, desperate to escape the agonizing heat, and plunged into the water. Consciousness fled him as the cold water shocked his inflamed skin.

On land, the queen spread her thick wings and shot into the air. Streams of flame poured out of her maw, painting the land and water red.

_~~~End of Flashback~~~_

Hiccup had gone pale as he listened to Fishlegs recount his story and he was trying not to shake in his chair. His brain struggled to grasp the enormity of what had occurred but he could only really focus on one thing: his father – Stoick the Vast, the invincible, the wall of Berk - was dead?

"The Red Death – that's what we've been calling it – died shortly afterwards." continued. His voice was rough with years of emotion. Spitelout's shot burned the dragon from the inside." Fishlegs sighed. "Most of the villagers survived but…when we got back to Berk…the dragons that escaped had taken over the village and most of the island. We…we couldn't go back. So – "

"How…." Hiccup was hardly paying attention anymore. So much had happened…too much had happened and what had he been doing? Sitting here, feeling sorry for himself for five years! A rush of anger lanced through him and Hiccup roared, flipping a table.

"How did this happen?!"

Fishlegs stayed silent, curling back on himself as Hiccup raged about his home.

"I should have been there…He needed me...I could have fixed this!"

"…Hiccup…"

"He didn't have to go there….he…if he had just listened!"

"Hiccup…"

The rider stopped, breathing ragged, hot tears staining his cheeks. "What?"

"I…I don't think this is your fault…"

Toothless, from his corner by the fireplace, crooned his agreement. His bright eyes were big with sadness and worry. He did not mourn the Viking's but he felt Hiccup's raging emotions as though they were his own. They roiled in his heart like fire unable to get out.

"I could have…done something."

Fishlegs sighed. "You…you don't know that."

"What?"

"Even if you had been there…the Red Death was vicious and as big as the main hall. It killed so many…you…you probably would have died too…"

Hiccup was silent for a moment, trying to let the semi comforting words settle him...but...wouldn't it have been better to die fighting rather than hide here, forgotten? Then again, he was not here by choice. His own father turned against him…

Conflict raged through Hiccup, tearing his mind apart. With a hefty roar, he stormed out of the hut, Toothless trailing behind him.

Fishlegs watched with wide eyes, flinching as the rush of wings filled the air and it was clear that the rider and dragon were gone.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I want to give a huge thank you to those who have favorited, followed, and reviewed this story! I did not expect it to be so well received and am honored and touched by all of you! I hope you guys liked this chapter! It went through a few rewrites and rethinking to get to this version and I am sure, if I spent any more time on it, I'd change it again! It's the longest chapter so far and I also think the most action packed so I wanted it to be worth the read. Anyway! I just wanted to say thank you again to everyone!


	5. Part Five - Grieving

**Part Five**

Fishlegs sat alone in Hiccup's hut for quite a while once the dragon rider left. The ropes holding him in place were strong, their knots complex and tight. Despite his wriggling, there was no way he could get himself free. Of course, Fishlegs told himself, he was not all that sure that he wanted to get free. Even though the two had not spent much time together, he considered Hiccup a friend. In their younger years, they were both strange for Vikings, using their brains more than brawn – not that they had much of that to use – and he looked up to the chief's son. Despite everything that the gods threw at him, Hiccup refused to give up. He embraced his new way of thinking, his differences, and used them to help…though Fishlegs had to admit the gesture was more appreciated than the action.

Even now, Fishlegs found that he admired the outcast Berkian. He still remembered how the scrawny boy pleaded with his father to believe that he had downed a Night Fury and he remembered how his own thoughts were as jaded as everyone else's. There was no way… it was impossible…especially for a hiccup. But, clearly, Hiccup had not allowed the mocking to deter him and now…now he had trained one of the deadliest dragons to grace the skies. Not only that, Fishlegs mused, eyes roving around the large house that Hiccup seemed to call home, but Hiccup did not let isolation destroy him. If anything, it seemed he had thrived off of the change, clinging to the new life as though it were made for him. Where most would have abandoned the source of their misery or sought new company, Hiccup was here, alone on an island, in a house buried beneath the trees.

Yes, Fishlegs decided. He did not want to leave. Besides, maybe, just maybe, he could bring the new Hiccup back.

The boy shifted lightly as the pole he was tied to began to irritate his bruised back. The sores from his fall were settling in, and a few it seemed, lined up perfectly with the support beam's pressure. Combined with the way his shoulder blades jutted against the wood to keep his hands behind his back, Fishlegs was quite uncomfortable. He sighed and tried to turn his attention to something else, instead looking around at the place that had become Hiccup's home for the past five years.

The structure of the building was little more than a large hut with one level but enough space between the ground and high curving ceilings for two and a half levels. Thick rafters supported the structure, marred with years of claw marks. The construction left a lot to be desired as it was a bit uneven in some places and spare wood was hammered between planks where gaps had formed. Old, dark planks mixed with new tan ones, evidence of how long it stood here.

The interior sported one big room, portioned off only by heavy furniture. The walls of the hut were decorated with Hiccup's artwork. Dragons of all size stared at him. Some, Fishlegs recognized; a Scauldron, Zipplebacks in various stages of development, a Monstrous Nightmare with wings that spanned an entire wall – but others Fishlegs had never seen even in the Book of Dragons. Between all of them, were scribbles of the Night Fury. The dragon's expressive face was splattered between the wings, tails and fangs of the other art work, kind, sweet, bright, or dangerous eyes looking out at the world. In those eyes Fishlegs saw the same protective instinct he had faced on the beach.

A fireplace took up much of the wall to his right. A table of cookery – mainly small cauldrons and a few wooden spoons – stood on one end while a slab of blackened stone stood on the other end. Fishlegs realized that this was where the Night Fury had been laying during his story.

On his left, was what Fishlegs' assumed was Hiccup's bed. It was twice the size of the bed the boy had had at Berk and low to the ground, the frame two thick slats to keep him off the floor. Worn, patched, dull blankets covered the bed, which was lumpy with what Fishlegs assumed were feathers.

Between the two ends of the hut, was a small forge like workstation. A large rectangular table, littered with long thin rods and tools, was set next to a sizeable stone, the top flattened from years of being beaten upon. Hiccup had even built a cooling well indoors, further proving his skill with invention.

In comparison to these three highlights, the rest of the hut was sparse in comparison. Two reclaimed chairs and a small desk-like table, all with mismatched legs, and two or three hefty chests – new clasps or hinges glittering against the graying wood - were scattered about. Clearly, Hiccup had worked hard to make his new home.

The bulky Viking sighed and shifted against his bonds again, a cramp forming in his shoulders and hunger beginning to gnaw at his belly. Distraction did not seem to be helping. Fishlegs leaned his head back against the pole, and closed his eyes. Maybe sleep would help the time pass.

When he opened his eyes again, the sun had fallen from the sky and the fire burned away. Still, Hiccup had not returned, and Fishlegs worried, in the cold, dark night, if he had scared the rider away.

_0000000000_

Toothless glided easily over the clouds, wings spread wide to catch the drafts. His eyes were half lidded, relaxing in the peace above the world. On his back, Hiccup lay against the dragon's scales, silent. His angry tears had stopped a while ago, as had his conversation with himself. Now he seemed listless, content to simply let the world pass around him. The only thoughts floating in Hiccup's mind was the final exchange he had with his father. Hatred, betrayal, disappointment, and hurt had been in both of their eyes then. Love, trust…things like that were lost in the heat of the moment, and now Hiccup realized he had held some microscopic hope, that one day he could get them back. That chance was gone now.

Hiccup started as Toothless slowly began to wind down for a landing. The dragon's movements were smooth, but the light tilt of Toothless' body as he banked registered in the rider's mind as time to click the tail fin into a new position. It was only when they dipped through the clouds and his eyes adjusted to the foggy light, that Hiccup understood. The ground was charred and the buildings more ruin than structure, but Hiccup could never not recognize Berk. His heart caught in his throat and for a moment, Hiccup could not breathe. His eyes hung open, mouth agape, fingers barely gripping the saddle underneath him. He was…home.

Toothless wheeled down silently, his claws clacking as they landed on the old docks. The wood creaked under his weight. A growl rumbled in the dragon's chest. The whole island smelled different, dangerous, but his not-a-viking needed to be here, so Toothless ignored his instinct to fly away.

Hiccup hesitated to slide out of the saddle. The curving steps of the island towered above him, the faces of ancient Berkians staring down at him. He felt their judgment in their stone eyes and quelled. "Let's go, bud." He pulled on the saddle and clicked Toothless' tail into a takeoff position but the dragon grunted his decline, jerking his head back toward the island. 'We have to…' he argued and launched up the winding steppes.

The houses lower to the water seemed to sustain damage only due to a passage of time. The old, rotted wood had fallen in so that most of the houses had gaping holes in the rooftops. The doors were gone, either dangling on the side or mixed among other splinters of wood. Those that retained their base frame were revolting to even be near. Mounds of old clothes were piled together, caked with dragon waste. Toothless was quick to glide away from them.

Terrible Terrors tittered at the shadow that passed over head, the small dragons dipping into tiny bolt holes along the ramps, while a few young gronkles snorted lazy greetings from nests atop the stone statues or nestled within the now depleted torches.

The duo landed in the main square and Hiccup finally unlatched himself from the dragon. From here, he could better see the destruction the dragons had caused. Most of the smaller houses had been burned down, their remains pilfered for anything the dragons found interesting. What were once shiny things, family portraits, and books poked from the ground like young flowers.

Once lush, green, staggered hills full of houses, were now barren, dry, hunks of land sporting nothing more than grey soil and charred wood.

The bridges that had once connected all of Berk together were mainly dipping into the water, those that had not fallen to complete ruin, wafting in the winter breeze. Hiccup did not dare walk on the cracked wood.

Stables and the larger houses had become fire nests, the overly charred ground a perfect resting place. Yet, despite the homey atmosphere, Hiccup gathered that the dragons had not been to Berk in a long time. "I guess they left when they realized the food was gone…"

The fact made his heart sink even more. The ground was damaged beyond repair, most of the trees had been burned away, and the stench of the dragons had driven away any wildlife. Even if the Berkians did want to come home…there truly was nothing here they could salvage. It only held empty memories.

Even beyond the pointed island to the forest beyond, Hiccup could see nothing but destruction. More of the trees lie on their sides instead of standing, blistered cuts showing they had been pushed down rather than cut.

Those sturdy ones that did still stand were without leaves save a few thistle filled ones the dragons knew better than to bother with.

Out of habit, Hiccup turned his attention to the cliff overlooking the main square and his breath caught in his throat.

The large house had fared no better than the rest of those on Berk, turned to dust under the dragons' claws. Even from the square he could see the stakes of what had once been walls lunging into the sky. Without a second thought, he scrambled up the hill – for the steps had rejoined the earth after five years of disuse – and toward the broken home.

It was rubble now; boulders and wood and scraps of metal on a foundation of stone as black as night. His boots crunched as he walked and his steps kicked flicks of metal or wood now turned into charcoal. Maybe that piece had been his bed. Maybe those were the torch holders. Did this rock come from the steps he climbed every day?

Hiccup wondered if the dragons had been so cruel to his old home intentionally. Did they know that the man that once killed them lived here? Did they work together to tear it down? How long did they blast their molten fire into the wood before the stone cracked?

Hiccup fell into the mess, a bitter, ironic laugh bubbling up from his chest. It emerged like a bark, sharp and inconsistent, with mirth underlying the tone. Toothless eyed his rider warily, head cocked to one side. This did not seem right. He slowly moved forward, gently nuzzling Hiccup with a concerned warble. The boy's laughter trailed off in the dragon's scales.

"There…there's nothing left…" Hiccup whispered at length. He turned slightly; just enough to see beyond the Night Fury's body, and his eyes scoured the ground for any sign of his past.

He could not believe the old house was so destroyed. It had been a chief's house, standing – as he was told – long before his father became the head of the Hairy Hooligans. It was sturdy, meant to withstand the harshest of attacks. It was built to look like every other house, to say 'I am one of you' but it was tall, wide, and welcoming to remind the Hooligans, and to warn anyone that dare attack, 'I will be here when you need me.' And suddenly, he found that he needed it. Pushing away from the dragon, Hiccup ripped into the wreckage.

Something…some scraps of wood, an old piece of paper, a nail...anything. But the hill was desolate, only a black well of charred land where a large dragon rested over and over again.

Toothless warbled his grievances, peddling away from his frantic rider. For a few seconds, he watched, simply processing the dramatic change. Then he felt it. Hiccup's desperation was contagious and soon Toothless was pawing through the remnants of Berk life scattered on the ground. He sniffed at them, trying with his heightened senses, to dig behind five years of dragon to the human that once owned the items. The dragon inhabitants had not been gentle with what had been left behind on Berk, and much of it was pressed into the ground by weighty feet. Still, Toothless was compelled to keep digging just like his rider.

Hiccup's fingers stung with his efforts to break into the dry, rock-filled ground, but he did not care. Desperation drove him. He could not bear to stop, to realize that he had truly lost everything. His home, his father, his tribe…something…he had to find something that made all of this…not so not okay…

His ferocity driven fingers slammed into a hard, jagged patch of ground buried beneath the surface and Hiccup felt warm blood stick to the digits. Carefully, he extracted his hand, hissing as dirt smudged the wounds. Several long strips were torn into his fingers, one stubby fingernail was cracked to the nail bed, and a few cuts decorated his palm. On their own, they were not bad, but the blood combined to paint his hand red. The rider sighed exasperatedly, and dropped his hand to the ground. This was pointless. Five years of harsh winter, untended land, and gods know how many dragons, left no hope that he could find anything still useable here. He ran one hand through his hair, sighing again as the depression he had buried under determination and anger crept its way to the surface. The tears he did not know he was capable of crying, stung in his eyes and the not-a-viking pulled in on himself, lowering his face to his knees.

The warbling of his dragon, in the square – when had Toothless gotten down there?- caught Hiccup's attention, and the boy looked over to him. Toothless was clawing more aggressively into a spot in the ground just beneath the curving lip of the hill, out of his sight. Hiccup could only make out the movement of the dragon's shoulder muscles and his flicking tail that spoke of excitement. 'Probably some old food…' he mused. Toothless would never miss a meal if he had a choice.

"It's not gonna be any good now!" He shouted down, barely putting any actual care into the warning. Most of the words were muffled, anyway, as he lowered his head again.

Toothless paid the boy no mind, continuing to dig at his found treasure, crooning excitedly. He buried his nose into the ground, grunting as he tried to grasp what he wanted. Finally, the dragon was able to get his find, and eagerly lopped up the hill to his rider. He crooned and nudged Hiccup's back lightly. His rider did not respond – or rather muttered something intelligible – and Toothless grumbled and nudged him again.

Hiccup begrudgingly lifted his head, red eyes rounding on his dragon. "What?" his tone was sharper than he intended but Toothless seemed too excited to care. In his mouth, he rolled something around on his tongue, and after a moment, dropped it at Hiccup's feet.

A saliva and dirt covered horn fell to the ground. The tip was gone, broken off most likely from years underground. It curved in a perfect crescent and was small, coming from a young or stout dragon, preserved with delicate care. But it was a horn in a dragon's nest. Hiccup failed to see what Toothless found so interesting about it.

"That's nice bud…"

Toothless practically rolled his eyes, snapped up the horn, and flicked his tail at Hiccup's head.

"Ow!" Hiccup glared. He was not in the mood for Toothless' games but the dragon was persistent and when Hiccup did not move, the dragon wrapped his tail around the boy and forced him to his feet, half dragging Hiccup with him down the hill.

"Ow! Toothless…what?! You stupid reptile, I don't care – Toothless stop!"

Unwillingly at the base of the hill, staring at Toothless' hole, Hiccup smacked against the tail that held him bound. "What?!"

Toothless gestured, wide eyes to the hole and Hiccup glanced at it. "What? You made a hole. Great. Can I - " He trailed off as his mind registered what Toothless was trying to show him. Hiccup took a slower look at the hole, kneeling as Toothless released his death grip on the boy.

The dirt in the hole was muddied from Toothless' drool but Hiccup did not really notice as he plunged his hands into the mess. Delicate fingers brushed and grasped until he was able to dislodge…a crushed, dirt filled helmet.

Hope sparked in his chest. Even as deformed as it was Hiccup could recognize the small helmet. His helmet. The one his father had given to him just before everything fell apart. The one that not only represented his mother, but his father, his hope, his one chance to fitting in…his home. Tears pricked at Hiccup's eyes again and they fell unbidden down his cheeks. Beside him, Toothless warbled.

"I'm fine, bud…" Again, his words were barely audible, emotion choking them to a whisper. His fingers wrapped around the curves of the helmet and pressed into the grooves where the one horn had fallen off. Memories flooded back into the forefront of his mind, the soft voice of his father in the forge, the red light on his excited face, the sinking feeling he had felt for just how much he was NOT what his father thought…"You kept up your end of the deal…"

Hiccup frowned, his grip tightening on the helmet. No…this belonged to a Viking, a killer, a Berkian. Hiccup had proven five years ago that he was none of those things. He hefted the helmet over head, ready to throw it back into the ground and let the past reclaim it…his hand trembled in defiance, fingers refusing to release. Hadn't he wanted this? Hadn't he cut up his hand desperate to find something from 'home'?

The boy sighed and dropped his lifted arm back to his lap, more hefty tears falling. He couldn't throw this away…back then it had been so easy to forget, or even resent the helmet for all that it placed on him…not now. Now it was the only sign that his father had loved him…the only bright moment in a history of hiccups. His tears fell freely, and in the midst of his memories he heard his father's harsh Viking tone: _"Vikings don't cry, Hiccup. Ya' just…punch…whatever makes you…__**feel**__."_

The rider chuckled. Those were words he had lived by for nearly twenty years, stuffing any sadness down in the depths of his boots where he could pretend to stomp them all away. He had made jokes when there was sadness, reveled when there was pain, and if he dared cry, the tears were silent, quick and burned him with their weakness. But now…all of that seemed trivial. His father was dead; Berk was gone. No amount of punching had saved him or the village from the Red Death. So he cried – sobbed – into his blood and dirt marred hands, then into the scales of his dragon when Toothless pressed a comforting muzzle against his cheek. He cried and cried until his body shuddered and ached with the raw emotions. And in the shadow of destruction, _that_ Hiccup was reborn.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

I wanted to make a note on something that I wanted to add to the story but could not put in without disrupting the flow. The helmet: as I watched the movie and show again, I realized that EVERY helmet on Berk was unique and while some may have had similar aspects, they were not easy to confuse. So I felt that Hiccup would easily be able to identify his helmet. I felt I needed to add this because otherwise it seemed just too…easy that he recognized something like that after 5 years.

Anyway. I know this chapter was a long(er) time coming and I thank everyone for hanging in there while I hammered stuff out. In the next few chapters we'll learn more about the Hooligans and see more of the main cast. I hope people continue to read into that, as the meat of the story will be coming there as well.

**And finally a note to all of my readers:**

Please Read and **Review**. As much as I appreciate being favorited and racking up the followers, as a writer, I like to hear reviews. Not just good stuff but honest thoughts and opinions. What did you like, what did you hate, what did I do well, what did I butcher – these things help me to improve as I work on my writing and are the true treasure of any writer. Please don't take this as greed for reviews, a plea for attention, or a demand – this is simply a request from a writer and reader to fellow writers and readers.


	6. Part Six - Learning

**Part Six**

Something scraped and bumped against the edge of Fishlegs' consciousness. He groaned at the phantom sounds, angry at them for pushing him awake. Slowly, the blonde cracked open his eyes, squinting as sunlight flowed into his retinas.

He coaxed another groan from his throat and, out of habit, raised his arm to block out the bright light. It took a moment for Fishlegs to realize that he was indeed able to move his arm, albeit slowly as his stiff muscles protested the movement, without worry of pulling at the ropes. In fact, he noticed, massaging his wrists, there were no ropes. The discovery of his freedom quickly whisked the remainder of his sleep away and Fishlegs blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the mid-morning sun.

"If you're up, we've got some breakfast for you."

Fishlegs jumped, startled by the voice. Hiccup was smiling lightly at him, a plate of roasted fish and grain gruel on the table next to him. The boy's stomach let out a loud rumble and Fishlegs was more than happy to answer. Scrambling to his feet, he crossed the small distance to the main table, eating the offered food before his bottom touched the chair. Hiccup chuckled at the other's eagerness, picking through his own food at a much calmer pace. He was not terribly hungry, the still roiling emotions ebbing away at his appetite, but he knew he had to eat.

"This is good!" Fishlegs said excitedly, though with his cheeks full of food it sounded more like: 'ish ish whoo!'

By the fireplace, Toothless happily crooned his agreement as he slid a third whole fish into his mouth.

"I didn't cook that…" Hiccup joked.

Fishlegs glanced again between the boy and his dragon, still rather amazed by the easy camaraderie they had. Toothless' wide eyes were peaceful, the fins and flaps around his face calm. Fishlegs noted that they twitched when the dragon was alert or threatened, much like antennae.

"So…" Hiccup's voice brought Fishlegs' attention back to his host. He seemed to have a question poking in his brain but was unsure how to broach it. Fishlegs awkwardly scuffed his boots along the floor, waiting.

Finally Hiccup continued. "The…uhm...I mean…does everyone…about Toothless...and me?"

Now it was Fishlegs turn to pause. Clearly Hiccup was afraid of the answer and after what happened back then, it was no wonder. But what answer was he afraid of, Fishlegs wondered; if the Hooligans all knew or if they had forgotten one of their own.

"It's…it's really more of a rumor really," he said slowly. "No one would confirm or deny it…"

Hiccup let the slow words flow into him. Astrid, his father, and the few Hooligans that may have had a clear view of him that night were probably the only ones that truly knew about him and Toothless.

Fishlegs watched Hiccup for a moment, glad that the other was not pressing the issue. The fact was Stoick would not _let_ anyone talk about his outcast son. Even the simple mention of the name 'Hiccup' was enough for the chief to threaten to send them to Outcast Island. Sure, in the beginning, the Hooligans were achingly curious, but after everything else that had happened, the people of Berk had more important things to worry about than one boy supposedly riding a dragon on the edge of the world.

"Fishlegs…"

The blonde jumped as he was pulled from his thoughts.

"Berk…" Hiccup felt his chest clench saying the word. "Tell me everything."

For the remainder of the day and into the starting edges of night, Fishlegs recounted the arduous life the Hooligans had lived after the events on Dragon Island. A total of twenty-six Vikings lost their lives on Dragon Island, forty-one sported new injuries and of those forty-one, seven more were too severely damaged to save. After the immediate return to the Isle of Berk and finding the place overrun with the escaped dragons, the Hooligans tried their best to fight off the beasts. But low morale and dwindling numbers of the able bodied gifted them with a swift defeat. They fled to the opposite end of the island where the trees were thick and winding caves offered mild protection. It was supposed to be temporary; just a time for the battered Hooligans to regroup, rest, and heal before retaking their homeland. But the pests tripled over the weeks and the Vikings had little choice but to flee to their semi-allies in the Berserker Island, controlled by the charitable Oswald the Agreeable.

"It was actually a pretty smart move on Snot – I mean Chief Snotlout's part."

Hiccup threw up a hand, "Wait wait wait…what was that?"

"What?"

"_Snotlout_ is chief? Really?" Hiccup found it hard to believe that the condescending, dimwitted boy could make anything close to a good leader.

But Fishlegs nodded his head eagerly. "Yeah. He did this thing with a Nightmare that saved a lot of the kids - "

Hiccup arched a brow, confused.

"He just stormed up to it and started roaring right back in its face!" Fishlegs explained. "I was sure the thing was going to eat him but I guess Snotlout scares even dragons because that Nightmare turned tail and ran."

"And they made him chief for that?"Seemed like nothing more than any of the other Vikings would have done and while Hiccup was glad his old home was stitching together a new life, he was having serious trouble wrapping his mind around Snotlout as chief.

"Well, that and the way he got everyone together. After everything that happened…people were really low, Hiccup. I mean, they were more willing to hide from the dragons than fight. But Snotlout…I think seeing his family die like that made him different. He made this big speech, swore to avenge the dead…" Fishlegs shrugged. "I mean, he's still Snotlout: he thinks with an axe more than a brain, but that's what Gobber is for."

Again, Hiccup found himself confused.

"Gobber is Snotlout's advisor," the other offered matter-of-factly. "He balances the chief out. You know how Gobber is."

Hiccup allowed himself another rare, small smile. Gobber's harsh, honest wisdom would be a good blade against Snotlout's brutish nature. He nodded and gestured for Fishlegs to continue his story.

"We probably would have stayed on with the Berserker's for a while but Dagur…well, I mean no one can PROVE it...but one day Oswald was found dead and Dagur was made chief. He forced Snotl – Chief Snotlout – to sign a new 'peace agreement'." Fishlegs scoffed. "'The former Berkians and Berserkers agree to an endless peace so long as neither ever cross paths again," he recited mockingly.

He continued to explain how the homeless Vikings were forced to return to the waters, sailing for nearly four months until they discovered an uninhabited, unclaimed land that was large enough to host the rambunctious Hooligans.

"So then why are you here?" Unlike the first time he asked, Hiccup was genuinely confused. Fishlegs had said he was looking for a new island…

"The island is sinking."

* * *

**Author's Notes:  
**

I want to first apologize for taking so long to upload this chapter. I know a lot of you were waiting a while. I recently went out of the country and was hoping to get this chapter posted before then, but sadly, things did not work out that way.

I know this chapter is not as hefty as those prior, but I did have to get some more history out of the way. I promise the next chapters will be more entertaining and engaging.

Finally, I have a question for you guys: Which of the twins do you think is strongest? I mean physical, emotional, and mental strength. This will pivotal to part eight so think hard on your answers.

As always, please read and **review. **As much as I appreciate being favorited and racking up the followers, as a writer, I like to hear reviews. Not just good stuff, but honest thoughts and opinions. What did you like, what did you hate, what did I do well, what did I butcher - these things help me to improve as I work on my writing and are the treasure of any writer. Please don't take this as greed for reviews, a plea for attention, or a demand - this is simply a request from a writer and reader to fellow writers and readers.


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